


Epidemic - GEN Version

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-02
Updated: 2002-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 01:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wagon pulls into town carrying a threat that even the Seven would find beyond their capabilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epidemic - GEN Version

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been written for the OW Virtual Season 3 challenge

The covered wagon came into town from the north, its wooden sides creaking ominously, the metal bit and links attached to two plodding horses clinking softly. The stained ivory-colored canvas covering jerked on its semicircular struts as the wagon bounced over the numerous ruts on the main street of Four Corners.

Chris had been standing outside the saloon, leaning against one of the thick wooden uprights that supported the roof over the boardwalk, his dark, flat-brim hat pulled low so his eyes were partially concealed and therefore protected from the glare of the fierce early afternoon sun that reflected off the pale, dusty ground. He drew on the cheroot thoughtfully, eyebrows knitting together, two vertical lines forming just above his nose as he watched the wagon move slowly along.

The horses were dead tired, dragging along their burdensome weight as if they had not rested in many days. His lips tightened in annoyance. He hated seeing horses mistreated in such a fashion, but the settlers who normally drove them usually had little or no knowledge of animal husbandry. He was convinced that what they did know probably came out of one of those dime novels that JD found so entertaining. He took a long, hard look, trying to see the driver, but not surprised to note that no-one was actually sitting on the driver's bench. The reins disappeared into the semi-darkness of the wagon's interior but were tugged every once in a while to keep the horses moving. As he continued to watch he saw a man's figure appear and start to clamber over the backrest until he was seated on the bench. Chris felt his frown deepen, and he straightened up, still undecided as to whether this merited closer investigation. If at all possible, the man looked more tired than his horses, the fatigue etched into his face in deep lines with huge, dark circles under his eyes. As the man pulled the horses to a halt just a little further on, Chris saw the desperation on that exhausted, heavily sweating face. Whoever this man was, he was living in hell.

With his decision made, Chris took a step down from the boardwalk but paused when the man raised a weak voice beseechingly.

"Please help us. Somebody. We need a doctor."

Chris's first impulse was to run forward, but there was something about the man - and that wagon; some instinct that warned him to hold back awhile longer. He had spent too many years listening to that inner voice to ignore it now so, instead, he yelled from the comparative safety of the opposite side of the street.

"Hey, mister. What's your problem?"

The man turned at the sound of an answering voice, eyes coming to rest on the lean, dark-clad figure whose gleaming gun lay snugly holstered by his right thigh. Everything screamed that this dark-clad stranger was a gunfighter, a killer, but desperation overcame his fear.

"My wife and little girl. They're sick, mister... real sick."

Nathan came running down from his clinic above the livery, pushing through the small crowd that had started to gather in a circle around the wagon. The same crowd edged back when the man mentioned someone being sick. The man began to cough, a racking that seemed to shake his entire body, doubling him over, and the crowd stepped back a little further, many with handkerchiefs and bandannas brought up quickly to cover their mouths and noses.

"I'm a healer."

Nathan headed straight for the back of the wagon, pulling the awning aside and leaning in to take his first look at the sick people that needed his help. He pulled back quickly, catching Chris slowly approaching the wagon in his peripheral vision. Nathan turned, face frozen in an expression that boded no dispute.

"Chris get back." He turned to the others crowding around him with eyes full of morbid curiosity. "All of you. Get back."

Nathan felt a hand on his arm and turned to find the pleading bloodshot, hazel eyes of the driver gazing imploringly into his own. He felt the fine trembling of a man near the end of his strength.

"It's alright, mister. I'll do what I can for you and your kin, but you got to take the wagon out of town. Meanwhile, I'll go get my bag."

The man swallowed, eyes brimming with tears of gratitude. Another cough and a series of sneezes racked his tired body before he could reply in a whisper full of emotion.

"God bless you!"

As he watched the man start to climb back on-board the wagon, Nathan began to wonder how long this man had been traveling, desperately trying to find help for his sick family.

"Nathan?"

Nathan looked up to see that Chris had come a few more feet closer, rather than doing as he was ordered.

"Chris, I said get back and I mean it."

Green eyes widened in surprise at the harsh tone and Chris took an instinctive step backwards making Nathan feel a momentary pang of guilt. It was obvious to all that Chris Larabee was unused to being so publicly chastised by one of his friends, especially when this particular friend was the usually pleasant, mild-mannered Nathan Jackson.

Chris heard the sound of movement behind him and turned to see several patrons of the saloon, including Ezra and Buck, taking a step off the boardwalk with curiosity easily visible on their faces. He turned back to meet those dark, unrelenting eyes.

"What is it, Nathan?"

"Reckon it's smallpox."

Fear darkened his own eyes and Chris found himself taking yet another step backwards, recoiling from the word and the horror it invoked, almost colliding with the small crowd that had gathered right behind him. He had heard of smallpox, had heard tales of whole Indian tribes and white settlements being wiped out by the disease. He was forced out of his dark thoughts as Buck pushed past him, his hand reaching out to snare Buck's jacket as fear for his oldest friend grabbed at him. Buck gave him a reassuring smile before the tall man turned back to the healer.

"I can help, Nathan. Caught it as a child back in Kansas, though I was one of the lucky ones... just got it mild."

Nathan nodded in gratitude although, secretly, he wondered how Buck would cope when he saw these latest victims. It was not a pretty sight. The woman was in the last stages of the disease, with death imminent, the skin already slipping off her arms to reveal the raw muscle and bone beneath. The little girl was covered in water-filled pustules that had already scabbed over and it was obvious from the red rash that marred the man's feverish face that he had not escaped either.

Buck wasted no time in clambering up onto the wagon, tenderly taking the reins from the exhausted man and urging the horses forward. There was a small pond just east of the town fed by an underground spring. With the few trees surrounding it to provide a little shelter from the glare and heat of the sun, it would be enough to offer a modicum of comfort to the sick people while keeping them away from Four Corners.

****

As the wagon moved slowly out of town, Chris looked around him, seeing a similar expression of fear on almost every face. Mary Travis was standing in the doorway of her office, her son held by one arm, her other hand pressed palm-first to her mouth. She had heard all the commotion but, thankfully, had not had time to approach before the truth was out. A ripple of conversation started, whispered voices gradually rising as fear turned to anger.

"He shouldn't have come here."

"Brought it to our door."

"What about our wives, our children?"

"Heard it wiped out Davidville... now a ghost town."

"Should have told him to move on."

"Should kill 'em afore they can spread the pox any further."

"Yeah!"

"Who's with me!"

"Now hold it!"

Chris found his soft voice being drowned out by the angry mob that was slowly forming on the other side of the street. He raised his voice but still gained no attention. With lightning speed he drew his gun and pulled the trigger, shooting once into the air. A small grin caught at his lips as silence fell and all attention turned to him.

"I don't want to hear of *anybody* going out there. Those people are hurting enough already... and they're far enough from town to be of no more danger. Leave 'em be."

"And what if we don't."

"Then you'll answer to me."

There was a rustle of movement behind him but Chris kept his eyes on the angry crowd.

"And me."

"Me, too boys."

Chris gave a small smile, always feeling a warmth swelling up inside when he heard others of the Seven backing him up. It was a good feeling to know there was someone watching his back. He glanced quickly to both sides as Vin and Josiah came up to flank him, knowing they would have their hands lightly resting on the weapons hanging by their sides, the intent clear to all that they were not afraid to draw and use them if need be. JD fell in beside Josiah with a tight nod aimed at their appointed leader. With Buck and Nathan having gone off with the wagon, that left only Ezra, but the gambler was nowhere in sight.

Josiah eyed the fidgeting mass of people thoughtfully.

"You folks should realize the pox loves a crowd. Be best if you all went your separate ways."

A murmur started among the angry, frightened people but it was clear that Josiah's words had struck home as people started to move apart.

Chris waited until most of the crowd had dispersed, then he looked around, trying to find Ezra Standish. He spotted the gambler coming out of the saloon with his saddlebags slung over his shoulders.

"Ezra?"

"Mr Larabee." Ezra looked a little shifty, but his voice was strong, leaving no room for doubt on how strongly he felt about his decision. "While I willingly agreed to assist in the defense of this backwater town, I fear that promise did not stretch to dying from some highly contagious and, if I might add, hideous disease. I would suggest that you and the others follow my lead, and retreat to healthier climes."

Chris licked his lips, for once unable to find any anger at Ezra's declared intent. The same thought had already skittered through his own mind as he remembered the gory tales Buck had related one night around a campfire. Chris didn't expect to live forever, was often surprised he was still alive at all but, until he came to Four Corners he had always assumed he would die from a bullet. The thought of going under through fever had never crossed his mind, until now, and it sat uneasily upon him.

He nodded in acceptance and saw a flicker of surprise soften Ezra's hardened green eyes.

Ezra reached out and grasped the hand that was thrust towards him, grateful that, for once, Chris Larabee understood and accepted his fears without remonstration.

"Take care, Ezra."

Now that the worst obstacle had been overcome, Ezra found the strength to face the other remaining members of the Seven, unable to prevent a shudder of remorse from filling him. Despite his frequent moans, this last year had given him something he had never realized he was missing... a home, and a sense of family. Even his own mother had felt it. Why else would she continue to grace this poor town with her presence? Certainly she had never bothered to visit him before he arrived in Four Corners, before he started sending letters that mentioned six strangers who had become like brothers to him.

Ezra looked at each face in turn, finding a little disappointment but mainly acceptance and compassion. He looked back at Chris Larabee's bowed head.

Suddenly, the thought of leaving all that he had found in this small town was far worse than dying from smallpox. And what if one - or all of the others - should succumb to the disease? Who would care for them?

"Damnation!" He dropped his saddlebags to the ground and closed his eyes. "I am going to regret this. I *know* I am."

A small but warm smile was barely visible on Chris Larabee's face but Ezra had learned, long ago, how to read all the other signs that told him he had made the right decision. He watched as JD picked up his saddlebags with an eagerness that displayed his own satisfaction with the turn of events.

"Hey, Ezra. You want me to carry these back for you?"

"Thank you, Mr Dunne. It would be most appreciated. Then perhaps we could retire to the saloon and await word from our resident healer, Mr Jackson."

"Good idea, Ezra."

Vin Tanner followed Ezra back towards the saloon, glancing once over his shoulder when he realized Chris was still standing motionless in the street, staring off into the distance in the direction the wagon had taken, an ominous look on his often expressionless face.

"Chris?"

With a half-hearted smile, Chris turned and followed them into the saloon.

****

Several hours passed before JD felt able to address the subject that they had all been avoiding.

"Have any of you ever had smallpox?"

Vin glanced up from the shot of whiskey he was nursing.

"Nope. It swept through the Kiowa reservation a few years back. Took a lot of lives but I weren't there at the time. Was out hunting with a band of braves and by the time we came back, laden down with buffalo hides and meat, it had burned itself out."

JD felt his eyebrows crawl upwards. It was unusual to get so much information out of Vin in one go; the man was usually as taciturn as Chris, and it was proof that this had shaken him as much as the others. JD turned to the next man in line.

"Josiah?"

Josiah Sanchez took a deep breath. He was well traveled, had seen a fair bit of the world while trailing behind his missionary father, and he had seen plenty of disease in his time, from the exotic to the plain; cholera, dysentery... influenza. All were killers and yet, somehow, he had never been exposed to the smallpox. He shook his head in the negative and upended the shot glass, savoring the burning taste of Red Eye.

"Chris?"

"Nope."

JD waited in case but, as usual, Chris didn't add anything more. He turned to the next man.

"What about you, Ezra? Though I guess you haven't had it either."

"I have."

His words made Chris pause with his own shot of whiskey part way to his mouth. When Ezra had decided to ride out on them he had assumed the man had been fleeing the possibility of catching the disease. He brought puzzled eyes to meet Ezra's and saw guilt flit across them momentarily.

"I was taken by the sickness a few years back while engaged upon the paddle steamers of the Mississippi. However, Fortune smiled on some of us while others..."

He trailed off in remembrance of his terrible pecuniary luck that had been far outweighed by his survival where so many had fallen. Ezra took a swallow of the deep amber liquid, unable to prevent a shudder as he remembered his sight of some poor souls, their bodies covered in lesions and pustules that formed inside as well as out, until they couldn't even eat or drink. Yes. He had been one of the lucky ones on that occasion. At least he knew he had survived the ravages of this particular disease relatively unharmed with just a few deep, but largely unnoticeable, scars to show for its passing.

He looked around the table at the men present. Staying was a gamble but, according to many sources, once you had lived through the disease then it never touched you again. Even so, if he had not found six good friends in this backwater town then he would never have touched those odds no matter how short they appeared to be.

"So. You, Buck and Nathan have had smallpox... and lived."

"Well, quite obviously, Mr Dunne."

JD reddened in embarrassment, that hadn't come out quite the way he had intended.

"What I meant to say is..."

"Why did you try to leave earlier?"

Ezra stared into pained, smoky green eyes and sighed, realizing that he owed some explanation for his actions.

"They say you cannot succumb twice... but it was not a gamble I was prepared to take."

"What changed your mind?"

Ezra stared at Chris, long and hard, for once at a loss for words as he tried rack his brain for some believable story rather than admit that he had allowed his emotions to override his survival instincts, but his gift seemed to have escaped him. He was saved by the timely arrival of Buck Wilmington.

"Hey Buck!"

"JD."

They watched as the man stumbled to the bar and grabbed a glass and a full bottle before returning to the table. He dropped to the seat JD pulled up for him.

"Mrs Daniels is dead. Her daughter won't live much longer."

He poured a generous amount into the shot glass and tipped it up, swallowing it down and quickly refilling the glass.

"Daniels wanted to bury his wife, but we persuaded him that it would be safer to burn the body."

Chris eyed his distraught friend, knowing how the death of a woman - any woman - affected the man deeply.

"What about Daniels?"

"Nathan reckons he won't live too long neither. Probably die of pneumonia if the pox don't get him first."

"What about the town?"

Buck pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"No telling."

Suddenly, Buck raised his head and turned to meet the intense green gaze. When he spoke his tone was sharp with grief, and it was deadly serious.

"But if anyone starts complaining about fever, aches and pains then you move away from them real fast, you hear me, Chris?"

"Yeah... I hear you."

****

Two days later Nathan and Buck stood side by side as they torched the bodies of Daniels and his young daughter within the covered wagon. As they watched the acrid black smoke climb into the clear blue sky, Buck felt compelled to ask Nathan a question.

"Why did you take that stuff?"

Nathan sighed. He had hoped Buck hadn't noticed but decided not to hide the truth.

"Read in one of those medical journals about something called inoculation. They reckon it can save a man's life from the smallpox by giving him a weaker dose... if you can't get hold of the Cowpox vaccine in time."

"And when do you propose to use that stuff?"

"I don't propose to use it at all... well, not yet anyhow. Already wired all the nearby towns, to see if some of that vaccine is close enough at hand. As to this..." Nathan held up the jar containing pus scraped from the dead child. "...I want to be ready, just in case."

****

More than a week passed and the incident was gradually forgotten. People went about their business as usual, settling back into the old routine. JD found himself wandering into the hardware store, his mind mostly engaged in checking out the new saddle displayed in a prime position at the store. Having taken a quick glance over his shoulder as he heard the jingle of the door bell, JD decided to ignore the new arrival but he perked up when he overheard the exchange that followed.

"Are you alright, Mr Phillips? You look a little out of sorts."

"I'm fine, Mrs Potter. Just a little tired. These old bones are not as young as they used to be. Got myself a fever, too. Gonna check in with that healer and see if he has anything for this dang headache and these aches."

His memory floated back to a week ago to Buck's voice ringing in his ears, carrying a seriousness that made even Chris Larabee sit up and take note.

'...if anyone starts complaining about fever, aches and pains then you move away from them real fast, you hear me...'

JD hesitated for one moment, undecided whether those words still applied, but decided that gazing longingly at that saddle could wait for another day. He moved swiftly to the door and out onto the street, bumping into Josiah who seemed rather the worse for wear.

"JD. You look a little perturbed, son."

"Old man Phillips is complaining about aches... doesn't look none too good neither. Are you alri..."

"I'll tell Nathan. Meanwhile, why don't you go to the saloon and set us up a bottle and some glasses."

JD's hazel eyes widened in surprise, his delighted expression proving to Josiah that this suggestion was a successful distraction. Josiah watched as the young man strode, eagerly, towards the saloon, knowing Chris was already there having just seen him through the door when he passed by a few minutes before. He paused for a moment, deep in thought then turned to check on JD. When he was certain JD was doing as he suggested, Josiah walked briskly down the street to where he had seen Nathan.

Nathan looked up as Josiah approached, giving him a welcoming smile that faltered when he read the concern in his old friend's countenance.

"It's started. Phillips is sick."

Nathan nodded his head, remembering that Phillips was one of the dozen people who had crowded around the wagon when it had come into town. He had hoped the Daniels had been moved far away, fast enough to prevent the spread of the disease they carried, but it now seemed unlikely. Nevertheless, Nathan was not going to jump to any conclusions until he had seen Phillips for himself. That opportunity came within a few minutes as the man approached the healer.

Soon after Nathan had his answer as he noticed the small red spots on the man's hands and face.

"Nathan. There's something else you need to know."

Nathan looked at Josiah closely for the first time, and closed his eyes in sudden realization.

****

Chris looked across with a puzzled expression, coffee mug paused halfway to his lips, when he noticed Nathan poised on the threshold of the saloon, the batwing doors held apart by the strong and yet gentle hands. Chris tilted his head, one eyebrow raised in query, when those dark, concerned eyes finally found his own.

Nathan gave a deep sigh and strode over to where Chris sat, unhooking a chair and collapsing onto it with yet another heartfelt sigh.

"Got trouble, Chris."

He watched as Chris took a sip of the thick, black liquid.

"Someone new in town?"

"Nope. Been here awhile an' it's gonna take more than the Seven of us to see it off."

"It?"

"Smallpox."

Chris felt the mug slipping from suddenly numbed fingers, but caught himself before it dropped. He was too shocked to notice that some of the coffee had slopped from the mug onto his thigh, unaware of the slight burning sensation as his mind reeled from Nathan's declaration.

"I thought... when no-one got sick right away..."

"Them real doctors call it an incubation time. Sits in a man for a week or so, gradually building." Nathan's expression turned grim. "Why didn't you go out to your shack, like I asked?"

Nathan sighed, realizing Chris had already answered that question by his earlier, shocked declaration. He continued on in a low voice.

"Need to speak to you, Vin and JD... Ms Travis too." Nathan stood up, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Buck and Ezra ought to come along too."

"When?"

"Now... I'll round up Ms Travis. You get the others. Josiah and I'll be waiting for you at the jail house."

****

Ten minutes later they were all arranged around the otherwise empty jail house. Chris was propped up with one hip on the desk and Ezra had made a space for himself at the other end. Mary Travis had been given one of the two seats and Vin, who had already been present in the sheriff's office when the others arrived, remained seated behind the desk. Vin could just about see between Chris and Ezra, watching Nathan's nervous pacing with a growing fear of his own. Josiah and JD had propped themselves against opposite walls, leaving the tall, imposing figure of Buck Wilmington leaning against the door frame, acting as a sort of guard.

It was Ezra who finally broke the silence, becoming frustrated with the wait as Nathan tried, visibly, to pull himself together.

"Mr Jackson... the day is passing by and I, for one, have a vocation that requires some preparation."

"Don't take much preparation slapping on some cologne and a fancy jacket, Ezra."

"I'll have you know, Mr Wilmington, that I take my ablutions seriously, unlike some others I could mention..."

"Enough."

Chris's quiet but strong voice cut through the banter before it could take too firm a grip.

"Nathan? Best say what you need to say."

Nathan swallowed, closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath that he released slowly. When he opened his eyes he found he had their complete attention.

"Mr Phillips has smallpox."

"I thought, when no-one got sick..."

"You and me both, JD."

JD looked across at Chris, seeing Chris's mouth form a tight line of barely concealed worry. It was strange seeing Chris looking a little scared but then, smallpox was not some tangible object that could be easily dispatched with a bullet. The same thought brought his own fears to the front of his mind. He had seen his own mother grow weak and die of scarlet fever, had felt the frustration of not being able to do anything to save her. He knew Nathan, Buck and Ezra had been exposed to smallpox so were probably safe but what if Chris or Vin or Josiah came down with the sickness? Could he go through this again? Seeing another person he cared about die while he could only stand by, helpless.

He wondered what the others were thinking and might have been surprised to know that Ezra shared his deep fears of standing by just as helpless while his newfound family grew sick and died around him.

"I sent out word to several towns... and I got to shipment of the vaccine coming in but it might not get here for another day or two."

"And in the meantime?"

Nathan looked hard into the ice-blue eyes of Mary Travis.

"I want you all to stay away from the rest of the townsfolk. You, Chris, Vin, and JD in particular... and Billy of course."

"We can use my shack for a few days..."

"No 'we', Chris. You, Vin and Ezra can go to your shack. JD, Ms Travis and Billy can go stay with Mrs Charleston... she had smallpox as a child. Buck and I'll stay here in town with Josiah. Reckon we might be needed before too long."

"I can't leave the town... not knowing all this."

Nathan shook his head in amazement.

"Ms Travis, it's only for a few days, until the vaccine arrives."

"No, I'm sorry, Nathan. And anyway, if anyone has been exposed to this then it is likely to be me. I've been visiting the townspeople every day since the Daniels came into town. I was with the Phillips only yesterday. I would like to send Billy away with JD though."

Nathan nodded in resignation. To be honest he had split the group for the very reason Mary Travis had mentioned. Both she and JD were sociable people, interacting with all the denizens of the town at an everyday level, whereas Chris and Vin kept to themselves for the most part.

Vin leaned forward suddenly.

"All those errands out of town I've been running for you lately, Nathan? And the night watches you were too tired to take? You were keeping me out of the way."

Nathan gave a wry grin at having his duplicity revealed but he had no regrets. Vin had spent most of the last week riding all night and sleeping all day - mostly alone except for the odd poker game with Chris and Ezra in an otherwise empty saloon. It was a shame his attempt to get Chris out of harm's way had not worked, but at least Chris was a solitary enough individual, tending to keep away from most of the townspeople, not wanting to get involved in their lives. He just hoped it had been enough to protect the man.

Chris felt Nathan's eyes on him and looked up with another question of his own.

"Wouldn't it be better if Josiah came with us?"

Josiah looked up from where he was leaning on the bars of the jail, standing well away from the rest of them and, for the first time, they noticed the sheen of sweat across his face.

"Been feeling a little feverish these last few days... put the aches down to a mighty bad hangover. Didn't want to believe I could be sick."

Chris stood up and took a step towards Josiah but found Nathan's large frame holding him back.

"I'm not running out when..."

Nathan practically shook Chris as he retorted.

"There ain't nothing you can do for Josiah, Chris, except get sick yourself... and that won't help me none. Now get riding out of town - and stay out until I say you can come back."

Chris gave Josiah one long look, despair clouding his green eyes, he ran a hand through his thick blond hair, obviously distressed by the turn of events. Josiah gave him a small smile of encouragement.

"I'll be alright, Chris. Now you get going... and take Vin and Ezra with you."

JD moved closer, his face holding a puzzled expression.

"If Ezra's already had smallpox then why is he going with them?"

"It's just in case..."

"In case one of us falls sick."

Vin finished the sentence for Nathan, looking up in time to read the confirmation in the fear-filled, dark eyes.

****

By the end of the next day Nathan had ten patients. It was amazing how many people had refused to believe they could be sick, ignoring the terrible headache and body aches that had lasted but a few days. Once word spread that their symptoms were similar to other townsfolk, they came in to see the healer. The feverishness that still gripped them days later, and the small rash of red spots on their faces, hands and feet were all the confirmation Nathan needed that they had, indeed, contracted the deadly disease.

With Buck and Josiah's help, Nathan turned the dilapidated church into a makeshift hospital and set about trying to ease the fear and pain of the victims. He could only watch in growing desperation as the rash spread all over Josiah's body. Within another few days that rash would have formed dime-sized lesions filled with a watery pus.

The following day, another twelve people arrived, some already deep into the second stage of the disease, covered in a red rash, having hidden themselves away in fear.

Nathan sent Buck to the telegraph office to wire Batesville. He wanted to check whether the vaccine was actually on its way. To be brutally honest, he knew from first-hand experience, that there was nothing to be done once you contracted smallpox, except to leave the disease to run its course, but there were others who might not yet have come in close enough contact. These people might be spared the devastating effects - given the vaccine in time.

There was one other obstacle that he would have to cross as the death toll started to rise. Despite what Vin had said about returning to the Kiowa village to find the disease had burned itself out, he knew that was not always the case. Vin had just been very lucky that the Kiowa tended to cremate the bodies of the dead, but here, in the white world, people preferred to inter their loved ones. One of the books he had read inferred that it was possible for the living to catch the sickness off the dead, even as much as a year later, from the clothes they wore, as well as from the fluids their bodies secreted. Somehow he was going to have to persuade the townsfolk to cremate the dead.

His thoughts turned to Chris, Vin and JD, and to the other townsfolk who had yet to show any sign of infection. If the news Buck came back with was not good then he would risk using the pus he had collected to inoculate them. It would involve scratching the skin and smearing the pus onto the wound, but the alternative was to allow the full force of the disease to strike them down. At least with inoculation they would get only the mild form of the disease - although there was still the slight risk of serious side effects such as pneumonia, pleurisy and blindness.

He looked up when someone burst through the door, expecting it to be yet another patient desperate for help, but instead he caught the beaming smile of Buck Wilmington. Buck held a package up in his hands and, on realizing what that package contained, Nathan found Buck's smile almost as infectious as the deadly disease he was battling.

"Came riding into town just as I reached the telegraph office."

Nathan opened the package and carefully removed the cowpox vaccine and syringes needed to inject it into a person.

"Let's get this vaccine out there."

"Chris, Vin and JD?"

Nathan grinned, wearily.

"I'll ask Ms Travis to tell the townsfolk to wait in their homes... I'll be coming round with the vaccine. Meantime, perhaps you can ride out and bring Chris and Vin back to the outskirts of the town... but don't you get too close to them. No point in tempting fate."

****

Buck pulled his gray mare to a halt about twenty feet from Chris's shack and yelled out, concerned at the lack of movement from the interior. He would have thought one of them would be on lookout, would have thought one of them would have come out to meet him. Fear coiled inside his belly as he considered all sorts of scenarios, the worst of which was a sudden realization that they might have succumbed to the smallpox leaving Ezra trying to nurse them all alone.

His fear was swept away as he heard a noise behind him and, turning in his saddle he saw Vin Tanner standing about twenty feet behind him. Vin had lowered his rifle and, with a welcoming grin on his face, he started walking towards Buck.

"Stay there, Vin. Nathan said you're to keep your distance from me just in case. He wants you and Chris to come back and wait for him on the outskirts of town. The vaccine arrived."

Vin nodded his head, a shy smile the only visual sign that he was pleased with the news. He passed around Buck, giving him a wide berth as requested, never approaching closer than twenty feet. Ten minutes later, the three other men were saddled up and approaching him. Buck smiled when he saw Ezra grab Chris's arm, his words drifting across the gap that separated them.

"I believe this is close enough, Mr Larabee. Lead on, Mr Wilmington."

They stopped about half a mile from the town and dismounted. Twenty minutes later they saw Nathan's familiar figure striding towards them. Having given the others a tired but welcoming smile, Nathan got straight down to business. He ordered them both to remove their coats and roll up their shirt sleeves then, one by one, he vaccinated them, watching the needle slide easily into pale flesh.

"You might feel a little sick for a few days... but that's all. Want you both to go back to the shack, stay there until you're feeling better."

"And what shall I do, Mr Jackson?"

"Was hoping you'd go back with them, unless you'd like to help with all these sick people..."

The look on Ezra's face told him what he needed to know, but he couldn't blame the man for wanting to avoid that kind of work. After all, not everyone had the stomach to be a Florence Nightingale, moving among the sick and dying. To be honest, when Buck told him about Ezra's initial reaction a week back, he had merely shaken his head, unsurprised. Now, as he looked at the fancy-dressed southerner who had been camping out at Chris's barely habitable shack, he felt a little shamed. He always thought the worst of the man and yet, time after time, Ezra proved that, when it came to the bottom line, he would always be there for the others, including for himself. Of course, Ezra always managed to find some self-serving excuse for his kindness or consideration, but Nathan felt he should have recognized that ruse for what it was a long time ago.

"What news of Mr Sanchez? And Mr Dunne?"

Chris gave Ezra a small smile, grateful the gambler had managed to ask the questions that he was afraid of voicing himself. Nathan looked at the three men, seeing the barely concealed concern in their eyes.

"Too early to tell how bad Josiah's got the sickness. Should know in a few more days. As for JD... he seems clear so far. Gave him and Billy Travis the vaccine ten minutes ago, as a precaution."

"And Mary?"

"Gave her the vaccine too. I need to get back to my patients... and I need to know you are both safe, so, get riding out of here."

Chris nodded, wishing he could ride back into town instead and help out, but knowing all that would achieve was additional worry for Nathan. He saw the same expression on Vin's face and, for one moment, he considered ignoring Nathan's order, but one look into those concerned, dark eyes made him pause. Nathan was dog tired but his expression told them that he did not want the additional burden of worrying about Chris and Vin too. The dark eyes softened.

"This ain't gonna be over in a few days. Gonna get much worse before it gets better. I'm gonna need you both later... when I know you're safe from this."

"Okay. But we'll be back in a few days."

Nathan smiled at the determination in the soft voice, suddenly realizing how hard it had been for these men to ride away when every nerve ending must be screaming against the inaction. He gripped each man's arm, reaffirming his bond of friendship and then watched as they saddled up and rode away.

****

Josiah opened his eyes and stared up at Buck Wilmington as the other man dragged a cool cloth across his forehead. He felt so weak, so hot... and so thirsty.

"Water."

He grimaced at the weakness of his own voice but strong arms raised him, a cup placed against his dry lips. He swallowed a little of the cool water and sighed in gratitude. Buck eased him back down.

"The vaccine came."

"Chris, Vin... JD?"

"Nathan's given them the vaccine. Said they would be a little out of sorts for a few days... then he can send for them."

"Been praying they'd be spared this."

"Looks like you got your wish then, Josiah."

Josiah nodded, his eyes closing.

****

"Mr Larabee? Chris?"

"Huh?"

"Perhaps you should retire."

"Yeah."

Ezra watched as Chris pushed himself out of the sturdy, handmade seat and, with heavy steps, move into the far corner that had been set aside as a small sleeping area. Chris didn't even bother to draw the drape across, just slipped out of his shirt and pants and climbed beneath the blanket.

Ezra turned when he felt another pair of eyes upon him, and met the concerned sky blue gaze of Vin Tanner.

"He's sick."

"Yes, Mr Tanner. But Nathan expected this. How about your good self?"

"Feel jest fine, Ezra."

"I must ask you. When you returned to the Kiowa village, did you or any of your band of natives perchance suffer any migraines or muscular afflictions soon after?"

"Don't know about the others. Didn't stay more than a day. Went north... but I can remember the dangdest aches... felt saddle sore all over. Thought it was the sickness but two days later, I was right as rain."

Ezra stared at Vin for a moment.

"It is my belief, Mr Tanner, that you had the smallpox... but so mild an affliction that you barely noticed its passing. It would explain why you have no symptoms following your vaccination, as described by Mr Jackson, and yet our illustrious leader is clearly suffering."

Vin nodded his head and glanced in the direction of the curtained off sleeping area. He had started to wonder as much himself when he noticed Chris looking decidedly unwell several hours back, whereas he had felt no real change in his own condition.

"If that's the case then we can take it in turns looking after Chris until he's well."

Ezra nodded.

Four hours later, Ezra found himself being pulled from a dreamless sleep to find Vin Tanner moving across the darkened shack to the corner where the only light cast shadows across a pale figure moving restlessly on the narrow bed. He pulled himself up and watched as Vin placed the bowl of water he carried onto the small bedside table before sitting down beside the agitated man. A cloth was dipped into the water and the excess squeezed out before being wiped across the sweat-sheened face.

Ezra approached, coming to stand by Vin's shoulder as the other man continued running the cool, damp cloth over the fevered skin of chest and arms. Vin glanced back up.

"May I be of any assistance, Mr Tanner."

"Could bring Chris some drinking water."

"It will be my pleasure."

Ezra returned moments later with a cup of clean water. Between them they managed to persuade Chris to take a sip. They took it in turns taking care of Chris through the remainder of the night and, just before dawn, Vin resumed his watch.

"He looks better."

Ezra nodded, feeling tired but relieved. The fever had seemed to break a short time earlier leaving Chris lying peaceful.

"What's wrong, Ezra?"

"Not used to seeing the daunting Mr Larabee look so vulnerable."

Vin gave a rare grin.

"Ain't so scary lying there all peaceful-like."

"The lack of the patent Larabee glare is rather refreshing. In fact, I shall picture this moment the next time I am on the receiving end of such a glare."

"Jest don't forget this dog's bite is as mean as his bark."

Any further banter was lost as Chris began to stir, opening heavy-lidded eyes to mere slits, a sliver of green barely visible. He frowned and tried to rise, surprise overtaking the drawn features when he realized how weak he felt.

"How do you feel, Chris?"

"Like I've been bucked off a bronco one too many times."

"Hungry?"

Chris nodded.

"Then I'll go rustle up some breakfast. Why don't you rest awhile longer an' I'll bring it to you when it's ready."

For once Chris did not bother to argue, he lay back down, his forearm draped across his eyes. The arm slowly dropped aside as he fell back into a deep, restorative sleep.

****

More than a month after that fateful day when Daniels drove his wagon into the town, Nathan sat down outside the makeshift hospital. He was tired beyond belief, although some of the burden had been taken off his shoulders once Chris, Vin, JD and Ezra returned to Four Corners. He had been surprised at how readily each man had pitched in, taking over many of the worst chores; cleaning soiled bedding, encouraging the sick to try to eat and drink... taking out the dead and burning the bodies.

 

He closed his eyes to force away the horrific images of the townsfolk he had come to know and care about, seeing their frightened, fever-bright eyes imploring him for aid he could not give. Never had he felt so helpless, so useless.

But his memories were not all filled with horror.

He remembered finding Chris reading the Bible to Josiah in the middle of one night. He had sat down quietly, listening to the gentle voice, drawing some small comfort from the warmth of friendship permeating the room. He recalled Ezra sitting with Mrs Potter's youngest, telling her stories of far away places, of princesses and dragons. Then there was JD, his boyish enthusiasm making some of the less attractive tasks less burdensome. Vin's quiet strength and gentleness had helped to sustain him, going about easing people's pain where he could, comforting the sick and dying.

Through all of it, Buck had remained by his side, his indefatigable spirit keeping him going when he felt the heavy pull of despair, knowing how useless he was, able to do little more than ease the suffering of those afflicted with the disease.

"Nathan?"

A beaming smile of welcome broke across the tired, drawn features.

"Josiah. Sit down before you fall down."

There were several new, deep pockmarks marring the otherwise familiar face, but Josiah bore his 'battle' scars with pride. Nathan remembered the words spoken so very clearly only a few hours earlier.

'Every time I look in the mirror and see these, I'll remember how lucky I am, to have found six fine friends.'

Another body dropped with a deep sigh to the boardwalk beside him; it was Vin. Nathan smiled as, one by one, the others drifted over to lean or sit around him. He looked into each face, no longer seeing a disparate group of shootists, tracker, gambler, ex-preacher and ex-slave. No matter what they had done in the past, no matter where they had come from, no matter the colour of their skin nor the tenets they lived by, these men had proved they were more than just associates, more than just friends; they had become a family. *His* family.

With a grin that reached deep into his soul, Nathan realized that, for once in his life, his family had survived all the horrors of this past month and, suddenly, he felt the urge to celebrate.

"What do you say we grab us a few bottles of Red Eye and raise a toast?"

Chris half turned, giving him that half smile that he had learned to recognize so well.

"A toast to what?"

"To life... and to family."

THE END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Epidemic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/207333) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan)




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